


You Can't Keep It

by Taymatoes



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Batcave, Domestic, Gen, One Big Happy Family, Spoilers 8x23
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-18
Updated: 2013-05-18
Packaged: 2017-12-12 06:16:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/808253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taymatoes/pseuds/Taymatoes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Kevin come back from a hunting trip with a little surprise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Can't Keep It

**Author's Note:**

> I like the domestic, one big happy family stuff. Probably a little too much actually. Enjoy. (:

Dean had his feet on the table, a cold beer in his hand, and a rather unscrupulous magazine hidden in a half-ass manner in one of those dusty books Sam was always reading. The Batcave was quiet, unlike the supermarket Castiel, Crowley, and Garth were probably terrorizing. He sent them out that morning and promptly decided to no longer think about it. The second-hand embarrassment was bound to kill him otherwise. Charlie had left a few hours ago on a lead she had dug up from a few towns over. He trusted her to it, if she needed backup, she would call.

The only two people unaccounted for were Sam and Kevin. They had been gone for about three days, something about several ghost sightings in Illinois. Sam had called about three hours ago that they were nearly home, but he had sounded nervous, which made Dean nervous.

And again, he pushed it out of mind. As long as no one was bleeding or dying, it couldn’t be that bad. It was time for beer and Dean’s quiet me-time.

That was until the ‘secret knock’ echoed through the cave; forcing Dean to put down his beer, snap shut his magazine, and climb to his feet. He should have started Dean Time sooner, he realized that now. With post-hunting trip Sam and Kevin stomping around, nothing would be accomplished. Dean would have too much of a mess to clean up.

Dean clicked the various locks out of place and swung open the massive metal door to only be ambushed by Kevin. The kid grabbed Dean’s shoulders, whirling him around, looking slightly panicked.

“Jesus Kevin,” Dean protested, forcibly removing the hands from his shirt. “What’s up?”

Kevin went wide-eyed, like a deer in headlights. His mouth snapped open and shut several times as he seemed to struggle for words.

Dean rolled his eyes. “Sam, what’s wrong with him?” he started to turn around to look at Sam, when Kevin grabbed him once more, dragging him farther away from the door.

“I wanted to ask,” Kevin said, a little breathlessly. “About ghosts and sending them to the afterlife and,”

Dean crossed his arms. “Seriously? You want to ask about ghosts? You’ve ganked plenty these past months, do you really need to bother me with this?” He was automatically suspicious, they were hiding something.

And his guess was quickly verified when Dean heard a soft whine from over his shoulder. “Goddammit Sammy,” Dean couldn’t keep the exasperation out of his voice as he whirled around. “You went out to hunt ghosts and you come back with a puppy?”

A slightly squished face peaked out from Sam’s arms, mournful brown eyes blinked before the puppy rested its cheek on Sam’s bicep with a heavy sigh. It looked like a baby, no more than a few months old, but big enough that even Sam seemed to have trouble carrying it.

“It was abandoned on the side of the road,” Kevin tried to reason from behind Dean. “We couldn’t leave it there.”

“It also doesn’t mean you bring it here,” Dean crossed his arms. “Take it to the pound or something. I don’t want it here. We have enough people living filling this place up, we don’t need a dog as well.”

In response, Sam’s face set in a straight line, and Dean braced himself for what was coming. “You let Cas keep the cat.”

And there was no further argument. Dean came to terms with the fact that this place was slowly turning into a zoo.


End file.
